


tired souls

by thenightskysighs



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Other, Post-Mockingjay, everlark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenightskysighs/pseuds/thenightskysighs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He kisses her collarbone and the sun rises and the flowers bloom. And the birds sing again. And it’s more than he could have ever hoped for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tired souls

**Author's Note:**

> The winding roads that led me here  
> Burn like coal and dry like tears  
> So here's my hope  
> My tired soul  
> So here's my ticket  
> I want to go home
> 
> My Father's Father - The Civil Wars

The doctors told him it would be good for him. If he went home, he could relive memories and decipher them. Separate real from fake. They told him he would realize he did not forget his past; he was only forced to believe it was not real.

 

But the word _home_ sat awkwardly on his tongue; it has found its way into his throat and choked him.

 

Maybe it was because home was where death mingled with coal dust and sometimes you couldn’t tell between the two. Where a girl who fought so passionately, who had such a fire beneath her, who touched him and he felt like he himself was on fire, gave up the ghost.

 

But he stepped on that train platform anyway. He traveled the same halls that were now so distant in his mind. Slept in a bed where he couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity, and tried to ignore the absence of a girl held fast to his chest beneath the sheets.

* * *

 

With nothing but a small suitcase held firmly in his grasp full of nothings expect basic clothes, pills and ointments that took up half of the small case and a sketchpad, he stepped back onto District Twelve soil for the first time in almost a year.

 

He stalled, because he remembered the first time this train brought him back home. He could almost hear the commotion of photographers and their families and friends embracing them, Peeta almost could feel the small warm hand that hardly left his that entire moment.

 

He allowed himself to be proud, for a small moment, that he could remember Katniss Everdeen as she was. Not a mutt or the Mockingjay or the girl on fire. Just _Katniss_. A girl that he loved once upon a time. 

 

He walked away from that blasted platform and kicked the dirt for good measure because everything had fallen away and he was not strong enough to pick anything up.  

* * *

 

He didn’t visit what was left of the bakery; it was too early, too close to home. He avoided town and made his journey to Victor’s Village.

 

Her lights were on, smoke traveled out of her chimney and the curtains danced in the breeze. At least she was alive.

 

Peeta wasn’t ready to see her, he didn’t know what condition she was in and he had to know what he was walking into before he took that leap.

 

The moment he walked in his house he felt like he was trying to walk through a brick wall. None of this was right; he was never supposed to come back. He never wanted to return to this house where he sat with his thoughts screaming at him and thousand pound weights on his shoulders.

 

But there was nothing else he could do, so he wiped the dust off the table and started a fire in the hearth because survival had been branded into him a long time ago.

* * *

 

He tried to sleep, but the night that bed helped him to rest would never come and he accepted that. So he lay awake, counting the ceiling tiles and turning over thoughts in his head.

 

Earlier, he visited Haymitch, who spurted and cursed as Peeta shook him from sleep. He only eyed the tired boy suspiciously, and muttered, “Well, welcome home.” His voice was shallow and empty.

 

Again with that _home_ word.

 

“How is she?” Peeta asked with silent remorse. He was almost afraid to know the answer. Haymitch shook his head and laughed bitterly. The sound came out harsh. “Dead to the world with her grief.”

 

Deep inside of that boy’s heart, he cowered. Hung his head and breathed in with shaky lungs. Some part of him whispered _I’m sorry_ , not to Haymitch or himself. Sorry to a girl who had lost everyone who meant anything to her. Sorry that she had lost him. Sorry that he couldn’t piece it all back together like he wanted so desperately to do.

 

So he planted flowers, because he didn’t know what else to do. And his heart turned in his chest when he met her wild eyes, and something in the air fluttered and all he wanted to do was to fold her body into his and build from the ground up.

* * *

 

He came bearing bread, and she feed her bacon to the stupid cat that only found companionship in someone he used to hate. Peeta almost cried at the heartbreaking irony.

 

She kept her head down, but when he carefully took her plate, grey met blue and she gave him a shy smile. A smile that reassured so many thoughts running circles in his head and it seemed like he could finally see through the dust.

 

“Thank you.” She whispered, her voice scratchy but something swam in the undertones of her kindness; something that sparked fire in his bones. Something warm.

 

Maybe this could be home.

* * *

It didn’t happen fast, or in anyway he could describe, but somehow she ended up seeking refuge in his warmth and they found peace in each other that neither of them had felt in what seemed like _decades._

 

And they just came to _be._ Not in any special way, no formal declarations of love; she just found her way into his arms and they found each other all over again, in a deeper way that no one could have ever thought would be possible, not after so much loss and blood and death, but they did and he almost laughed when it crossed his mind, because it almost seemed impossible to tear them apart.

 

Even when she came home to his shaking form cowered in their bedroom corner, she did not run from him and he dared not run from her. And she helped pick up the pieces of his mind and reconstruct memories that were so vivid to her and so foreign to him, and it was some kind of sick game but it was all they knew.

 

But they never stop picking each other up and fighting the fight and continuing their journey home because it’s what they always did; survive.

 

She tells him she loves him, and he buries his face in her chest, listening to the steady drum of her heart and following the pattern of a scar on her back. He kisses her collarbone and the sun rises and the flowers bloom. And the birds sing again. And it’s more than he could have ever hoped for. 

* * *

And there were unsure days; days when his mind was blurred with violent images and he became silent. And that was usually the first sign something was wrong; Peeta talked, he talked constantly. Words defined him as a person and when he was reduced to nods and small smiles that didn't reach his eyes, Katniss knew that he had started to beat out the kinks of his armor and returned to the battlefield that was so familiar. His mind.

He became self conscious, hesitant of affection and it was those moments that he needed her words the most. Her clarification of it all.  
  
She had known he was suffering, and it had been going on for days. He didn't speak often, he left for the bakery before she woke and came home tired and sore, usually eating a silent dinner and going to bed afterwards. And this wasn't good. He was shutting her out, running from the only person that could wipe the fog away.  
  
When his mind became muffled and shiny, Peeta out all he had into work; he worked from sun up to sun down to do anything but have a flashback. To think of anything but what his mind was feeding him. And every night he sat on the side of bed taking off his prosthetic and burrowing himself further into the hole that had been dug for him.  
  
But he couldn't hide his sadness from Katniss, and her arms circled around his neck and her lips found the spot under his right ear, and he sighed. He was tired. And weak. And so sick of being half the man he should be.  
  
"You're hiding." She whispered with remorse thick and noticeable in her voice. His chest ached.  
  
That was when things went from bad to worse; when they hid from each other.  
  
Katniss moved from behind him and her feet gracefully hit the floor and she turned to face him. Her hands traveled to unclasp the remaining closures of his prosthetic, but he cowered away. She looked up to find shame and embarrassment coloring his face in the dim light. Katniss's own chest ached.  
  
Peeta became unsure of himself when the sadness creped up on him. _She deserves better_ , that was the thought that crossed his mind when he saw the look of confusion shoot across her eyes after he refused her help.  
  
Katniss wasn't stupid, and she knew Peeta too well to not realize what was going through his head, so she planted herself beside his body and set her jaw.  
  
"Peeta Mellark," Her hand came to rest on his cheek so he would look her in eye. "It hurts how much I love you," She breathed in ragged; roughly. She had grown to love a boy that had turned into the man sitting beside her, and everyday she marveled at how much he meant to her. "And I would still love you just as much if you had 3 legs or none at all." He snorted then, and she laughed and smiled shyly. The smile that was the only reason he got out of bed sometimes. The one that still made his heart swell.  
  
"They took your leg," She found his hand and entwined their fingers. "And they tried to take us, but we're still here." He found her gaze, and in that moment, his mind was clear of all fog and shine. And his heart pounded because, no, Katniss Everdeen wasn't great with words but she was when it mattered. When someone was tired and alone, she would stir up every bit of passion in her bones and pour it out, and it never ceased to make him realize how much he loved this woman. This woman who loved so purely and passionately.  
  
"I love you." He said, his words laced with emotion. He kissed her because she was Katniss and she loved him. And he questioned why he ever doubted.

* * *

 

It was never easy, and the road sometimes seemed endless and there were days that he couldn’t get out of bed and there were days when she couldn’t pick herself up but it was okay. Because they understood each other in ways most people never would, and he knew that she would always come back to him and she knew he would always find a way through the fog and back in her arms; where he was supposed to be. And their love deepened even more, strengthened by arguments and smiles and small ones that loved their parents almost as fiercely as they loved each other. And the sun rose every morning to mark a new day and laughter filled their lives that trampled the darkness and it was good again. 


End file.
